


Beneath the skin

by Bacner



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: AU - Canon Divergence, Crossover, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Marvel Universe, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-14 16:49:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5750809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bacner/pseuds/Bacner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Grant Ward was about to shoot Kara Palamas, something new has happened in the world: the magic has come back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a crossover with the BtVS, mostly comic-verse, rather than TV-verse.

It was one of those days, where nothing seems to go right. Grant Ward thought that he had it all figured out: he and Palamas kidnap Bobbi Morse, she apologizes to his girlfriend (i.e. Kara Lynn Palamas) ... genuinely or not, the two of them clear the air and he and Kara Lynn return Bobbi back to S.H.I.E.L.D. and everyone can go on with their lives ... and Phil Coulson and his high-handed offer of T.A.H.I.T.I. can go hang. (Seriously, Coulson may be a white hat, but the way he gets onto a high horse? That is something else.)

Only...this does not happen. Kara Lynn was certainly right about Bobbi: as soon as the blonde saw her ex-friend (and more, if Grant's past observations are correct), she dug in and refused to apologize. Maybe Ward should have been the bigger man and just let her go ... but he did not. He really did want to carry out his promise to Kara Lynn, especially since he had talked her out of taking revenge on Melinda May (he is not scared: he had actually figured out a strategy as to how to defeat the Cavalry, but he still doesn't want to fight her, not if he can help it), and so he cranked up his persuasion methodology, utilizing the skills that Garrett had taught him, until the final piece of the plot - the one where he had laid a death trap either for Morse or for her boyfriend, the one with the crazy hats, and would've worked, if the Cavalry hadn't shown up after all.

Now...he was waiting for her, ready to give her the double-tap, something that not even the Cavalry would survive, and it would've worked, if across the world something else didn't happen - Illyria and Koh had restarted the Seed of Magic, and all the magic in the world comes back.

The result is a brief rush through Grant Ward's being; for a moment he becomes quite aware of his surroundings and everyone around him ... and then he shoves it all back down, and asks the woman that he had almost shot:

"Kara Lynn?"

"Yeah?"

"You want to talk?"

"No...Yes...can you go first?"  
"Of course."

/

_There once was a Rakshasa, a high-ranking noble warrior of Ravana, (the great Maharajah, the First and the Last, the Alpha and Omega, the King of all the Rakshasas), who had done something unexpected: he fell in love with an Apsara. This sort of thing just was not done, not since the whole Rama and Sita incident (i.e. the Ramayana), and so the Rakshasa, whose name, incidentally, was Hudima, the Kinslayer, was brought to Ravana for judgement._

_The great Maharajah was feeling magnanimous on that day, and gave his good servant a choice: to snap out of it and move on (the Apsara didn't appear to reciprocate the feelings to begin with), or to move on via reincarnation, to see if the Kinslayer will have better luck in his next life (and he could always return to the state of being a Rakshasa by dying)._

_It is unknown what the great Maharajah expected of Hudima in regards to the lesser Rakshasa's reply, but when the other asked for reincarnation, he was somewhat surprised ... but not enough to give the latter a chance to rethink it all. Off came Hudima's head, and off went Hudima to be reincarnated..._

/ 

"Wow," Kara Lynn nodded thoughtfully, "simply wow. This is one amazing tale!" (she received a longer one from Ward directly; the readers of this tale get a more condensed version to save time here). "I don't have anything to match it. I am ... I was ... a Vouvre. My mother was a Philocatrix. I fell in love with Morse, who was a Valkyrie, and followed her into S.H.I.E.L.D. under a human guise, same as she did. I thought that I could win her over - I did not. Then the magic died, I became more human than I have liked, got captured by Hydra, broken by them, then you came along and helped me." A pause. "Now the magic is back, and I can go back to being a Vouvre, daughter of a Philocatrix-"

"I have no idea what either of these is," Ward admitted.

Kara Lynn made a gesture. For several moments an image of a great serpent-dragon, eyeless, save for one gemstone of an eye in the middle of its' ... hers ... forehead ... looks at Ward, before dispelling into mist. "That's who I really am," Kara Lynn explained, as Ward looked on without being too terribly impressed or intimidated by this revelation. "And this is who I'll be once more once I leave the human shell behind." She grimaced in an admission of fact. "Of course, after the lean months of no magic this will be harder, I have grown used to being a real human-" She paused. "You want to say anything?" she asked Ward.

"What's with the opal in the forehead?" he asks quietly.

"It's my stone - the source of my power," Kara Lynn says quietly. "Why, do you want it?"

"Kara Lynn," the response is equally quiet, "I was once obsessed with Skye - you cured me of that. You showed me what true love is, and I tried to repay you - and it almost went horribly wrong. I once thought of marrying you, but this is ridiculous now, isn't it?"

"I don't know, if you would go back to your roots," Kara Lynn falls quiet, as Ward looks at her.

"No. It's more of a masculine thing - I have to see it through the end," Ward shakes his head. "I'm sorry if I've dragged you into this-"

"The only thing you did was make me feel human after everything that Whitehall did to me," Kara Lynn hisses ... in an ordinary manner, not how a serpent-dragon would. "You made me feel human, without any sex, even... you know, this is just something that I never knew was possible! I am not giving up on you - or giving you up, period."

"Then you want to get married?" Ward asks, still quietly. "S.H.I.E.L.D., and Skye, can go hang if they want to."

"Do I?" Kara Lynn replies, smiling brilliantly. "Let's!"


	2. Chapter 1.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grant and Kara start settling in. But then, there was the not-zombie.

_Disclaimer: see previous chapter._

...And so it came to pass that several weeks later a new couple had moved into the so-called Magic town (though there was a committee working on its name, but there always is. A committee). They were relatively low-profile and weren't intent on attracting much attention - and they didn't. Attract much attention, that is. There was some attention - but there always is. The couple didn't mind, they just began to move in. True, there were people - there always are - who were ready to lend a helping hand, at least for a buck or two, but the couple for the moment was not in any hurry to spare any money, especially since their belongings weren't very numerous or heavy - their new place did have some furniture from the previous owners already, and since it was just the two of them, there weren't too many personal belongings to take care of either, at least not at the moment. 

"So, how do you like our new place?" Grant politely inquired of Kara later during the day (make it actually the evening - at this time of year the days were still short, the dusk came quickly, and the nights were quicker to arrive yet). 

At the moment, the two of them were sitting in their new kitchen, (Grant had just congratulated Kara on her new coat, bought cheap), and eating chili. In fact, this was largely the extent of Kara's immediate knowledge of Central America: she was actually the daughter of an immigrant to Britain (back in the 80s and 90s), who became a single mother, and whose daughter actually became a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent...big whoop. 

Well, true, this sort of thing was something of a big deal - usually S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't really let its' agents go and retire, as Grant and Kara's Mexican encounter with Coulson had shown. If Coulson had been willing to deal with Grant, (more or less), despite of all of their personal bad blood between them, he would've been even more enthused to deal with Kara, provided that she was on her own...and probably apologetic to Bobbi. Hell, Grant couldn't fully shake the snaking suspicion that if he arrived at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s HQ, gave himself up and asked for T.A.H.I.T.I., he still would've recieved it and...who knows what would've happened next. Grant didn't know and didn't intend to find out. He might not have been a good man, but he had honestly assumed that Morse had been a better person than he was, especially after what she had put the shorter woman through. Having her thrown back his attempts to negotiate with her hurt. The fact that he had almost hurt and killed his new friend/partner/the first person to be in his corner hurt even more.

"So, what are you thinking about?" Kara politely inquired herself as she continued to eat her chili with bacon (and tortillas). 

"All sorts of things," Grant replied. "Including the local rumors about shadow hounds of some sorts, sentient houses that eat people and cobbled streets coming to some sort of life. And then there's this thing in the attic."

"You mean the seven-foot faceless gargoyle that got too close to chili for comfort?" Kara grunted. "True, this is disturbing. But, you know, this isn't S.H.I.E.L.D.'s sort of disturbing - more of IWC's."

"Yes, and apparently they appointed a subsidiary to run things here, or perhaps the subsidiary had appointed themselves instead," Grant nodded. "We can work with this. How's the chili?"

"A perfect dinner for a chilly evening," Kara smiled, before blushing. "I, uh, tried to make a pun? Sorry if it is a bit blase-"

"You're talking to a robot here. Anything less blase and it might go over my head," Grant shrugged noncomittally. "Hey, what's the noise outside? Not S.H.I.E.L.D., is it?"

"No," Kara, who had been sitting closer to the window than her partner, looked out of it first. "You really should see it."

"Do I?" Grant sceptically asked, but joined the woman at the window - and they beheld a zombie, who was currently fighting a local police officer - a British human police officer - and winningm even though it had been chewed on itself (the zombie, not the the officer). Its' left side, in particular, showed noticeable chewing marks, and they weren't human or humanoid...

"So," Grant told Kara with a heavy sign, as he reached for the already-dented pot of chili, "any particular advice, oh daughter of a Philocatrix?"

"Yes," Kara told slowly. "This isn't a zombie. There's some sort of an invisible ooze around it-"

"Let's make it visible then," Grant replied and threw the chili across the street. The pot flew and hit the not-zombie, splashing hot chili all over it - or rather the invisible ooze on it. Now both Grant and Kara could see the formerly-invisible substance convulsing over and around the corpse as it flailed around, while its parasite reacted to chili - badly.

"Kara," Grant suggested thoughtfully, "cripple it."

"How?"

"The ballistic knifes - go for the knees."

"Got it!" Kara pulled out the weapons in question, took aim, waited for the right opportunity - and struck, for the left knee, and then the right one. The corpse half-collapsed knees-first onto the street, and Grant picked up the shovel (he and Kara planned to make a garden in their backyard, especially once the weather became properly warm), went out to meet it, and hit the entity repeatedly in the head with the flat side of the shovel, until the head, well, burst, splashing ooze, chili and rotten brain matter all over the street, almost hitting Ward himself. 

"There goes my appetite," Grant looked at the unappetizing mixture and spat. 

It was then that more of the local police force had arrived. Frankly, Grant and Kara would be rather dealing with more not-zombies.

///

"I would be rather dealing with more not-zombies," Grant told Kara a brief while later, as they sat on their porch, (dressed warmly), while the police tried to figure out what to do with the corpse that was now finally dead. Grant and Kara would advise them to apply a flamethrower of some sort, but from what they knew about an average police officer, this sort of advice would not be appreciated; plus, they were honestly interested in seeing what the police would do on their own in the situation.

"I'm telling you, lieutenant Cameron," the police officer who had been tossed around by the not-zombie in the first place was telling his superior, who was looking like an older, heavier version of Daisy Ridley of all people, "these people - they can speak English, they really can."

The superior officer looked across the short front yard at Kara and Grant who waved cheerfully back, with friendly but blank smiles across their faces. So far the police were doing whatever they were doing professionally enough - smart as foxes and sharp as whips so that the civilians believed that they had not been tossed around by the partially eaten not-zombie just minutes ago. Judging by the clear lack of enthusiasm on the civilians' faces (some of whom were clearly not very human) the audience wasn't buying this, and neither were Kara and Grant in particular.

"You sure?" officer Cameron wasn't very impressed by the last statement. "With Angel overseas in the States and Faith busy doing the corporate world, this place isn't what used to be - hopefully, Angel will get back soon, 'cause the rest of his party still need help, including the Nodira woman."

"She's over there," her interlocutor pointed across the street, behind the police vehicles, where a woman, half-normal and half-covered in glowing green tattoos was standing in the shadows looking at the unfolding scene was a carefully blank facial expression - not unlike Grant and Kara she wasn't buying or impressed by the police actions. "Hi!" the formerly tossed police officer waved his hand in an overly friendly way.

Officer Cameron face palmed and walked over to Grant and Kara in a way that made it clear that she had made some sort of a decision. "You," she told them firmly, but with hostility still in check. "I know, we know, that you do understand English. What has happened here?"

"The not-zombie was tossing your people around. We distracted it with chili and then broke it for good," Grant replied, deciding that purposefully winding up cops was a bad idea in the long run.

"So that what that goop is," Cameron had an epiphany. "Chili?"

"Some of it yes," Grant didn't argue. "The rest came from the gunk that was animating the corpse." He paused and added: "The fact that it was chewed over and eaten by pigs didn't help the corpse any, either."

"Pigs? That's who ate Mr. Fen the younger? Swine?"

Grant and Kara exchanged looks between each other and nodded. Pound for pound, the so-called domestic swine could be meaner than pit bulls, and get quite bigger too.

"Lincoln," Cameron swore. 

"Excuse me?" Grant took a double-take. 

"Lonnie Lincoln," Cameron muttered, clearly disgusted. "This...arsehole, from NYC, came here few months ago, set up shop, got his fingers in everything, including the drug trade - but lately it seems to be getting away from him so now there's fighting on top of the zombie and magical stuff-"

"That wasn't a zombie," Kara firmly told the other woman. "It was animated by the ooze. It was vulnerable for chili. Maybe you can try pepper-spraying it the next time it returns?"

"There won't be a next time," Cameron muttered. "Whatever else councilman Stapleton could've thought up and out, this time the self-proclaimed 'Tombstone' had gone too far."

"Aha," Grant nodded with a noteable lack of enthusiasm, (among other things). "Officer-"

"Thank you for your time, citizens," the senior officer (of the moment) told the ex-agents, clearly dismissing them now. "You will be called upon later to make your statement; for now, have a nice day." And she left, leaving behind clearly unhappy Grant and Kara.

///

"...Lincoln isn't behind this, is he?" Kara asked some time later, as Grant finished working on their toilet (it had backed-up). "We're not talking about the boy from your Arctic mission, are we?"

"No, there was a gangster in NYC, better known as Tombstone, who got out of it after a falling out with Fisk," Grant wrinkled his nose from the smell even as he washed his hands. "Nowadays, Fisk himself is out - there are all too many heroes in that city - Spiderman, now this Daredevil character, and some group called the Heroes for Hire - how does S.H.I.E.L.D. think of them, I wonder? - so I'm guessing that Tombstone decided to set his shop here, over the pond."

"But he isn't behind this?"

"He's behind something, I bet. The entire feeding people to pigs thing? That's him, all right. I remember this from John. But not-zombies, or zombies, and everything else? That's not him. The authorities are looking for scapegoats, and the problem with scapegoats is that they don't work in the long run."

"True," Kara nodded. "So we'll be going now to look for him?"

"Or perhaps the woman with the glowing tattoos. What was her name? Nodira? Something like that." Grant paused and looked at Kara. "Please understand. Your ex was right - I am not a hero, but I don't like the idea of living in a warzone between Tombstone, some crazy witch and who knows what else. The cops, corrupt or otherwise, maybe. I don't like the idea of moving, again-"

"Neither do I," Kara admitted. "Strange faceless gargoyles or otherwise, this is our home now. Let's start making a stand. I'm getting my hat and coat."

"You're coming with me?" Grant half-asked, half-stated.

"Hey, we're a couple now, remember? Of course!"

There was a certain amount of noise coming from their new attic, not unlike something big, but skinny, taking flight. Grant and Kara exchanged nonchalant looks, shrugged in unison and left, looking for answers. 

Outside, the evening was drawing into night.

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 1.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grant and Kara meet Kestrel, the local information broker, and get some information brokered to them in exchange for coffee.

_Disclaimer: none of the characters are mine, except for Kestrel._

And so, two brave (relatively speaking) ex-agents went into the darkening streets, dressed warmly, though the wind was still rather biting and unpleasant - as it befitted this time of the year. 

"Do we have any idea who we are looking for?" Kara muttered to Grant, licking her lips dry from the last of chili - it had not been very good, but had been warm, even hot, and filling - just what the two of them had needed, in the long run and after the somewhat complex moving process. "Or rather - what signs are we looking for?"

"Kara, we're living in a new town that has zombies and who knows what else," Grant pointed back, not unreasonably. "I'm thinking that we're just going to get the general lay of the land here and now, and figure out where to search for Tombstone later on."

"Ah. This makes sense," Kara nodded sagely. "Maybe we should've brought a portable radio with us to further promote the atmosphere?"

There was a pause as Grant stared at Kara in sheer incredulity, before breaking into a tiny, awkward smile that almost literally hurt him. "Good one," he said awkwardly, "I could really use it."

"Thanks," Kara blushed herself. "I'm not used to being the more extrovert one - that had always been Bobbi."

"Maybe we can take turns?" Grant suggested, as he reached out and pulled out of the street's shadows some sort of an androgen (in the mundane sense of the world), dressed very colorfully - in russet and blue clothes. "And who are you, BTW?"

"I'm Kestrel," the androgen smiled in a somewhat submissive sort of way. "I'm, uh, a friend?"

"Ok," Grant released 'Kestrel' and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Smoke, 'friend'?"

'Kestrel' looked thoughtfully at the pack. "Another time, 'friend'. Now, you, uh, were looking for Tombstone?"

"Yup," Kara smiled - in a polite way (she wasn't using her mask at the moment). "Do you know where we can find him?"

"Why would you want to find him?" 'Kestrel' gave a surprisingly sharp-eyed glance at the older couple. "He's...bad."

"I know - we know," Kara nodded, still sounding warm and friendly. "But he is not the sort of a person to get involved with zombies, or not-zombies, or whatever you want to call them. He is being framed. Normally, this wouldn't be so bad - he got a lot of sins on his conscience all the same, but we're worried that while the authorities will be busy with him, the zombie-maker, or -makers will have a free reign here."

"Normally, this wouldn't be so bad," 'Kestrel' clearly thought this over. "Nodira would get Angel, who would get Faith, and together with Fred and Koh they would resolve this, somehow. But Angel is in the States dealing with his family, Faith is hard to find without him, and Fred and Koh aren't as such how to tackle this Stone-"

"'Tackling' is the worst idea when comes to Lonnie," Grant shook his head, "not unless you're Fisk, and believe me, Fisk was worse. Anyhow, can you take us to him? We need to talk to him. He knows me - sort of, which is a good point to start as any."

"Maybe," 'Kestrel' agreed, before accepting the flask. "What is this?"

"Coffee," Kara said with another smile - a warmer, friendlier one. "Want some? It's cold tonight."

"Well, don't mind if I do," 'Kestrel' agreed, as s/he swallowed several gulps. "It's good. What is it?"

"Since it was just for Grant and me, this time, it's Irish," Kara shrugged. "Next time you want something, miss, just let us know."

"...Say what now?" Kestrel stared at the older woman.

"No Adam's apple," Kara shrugged. "I'm practicing gynecology on the side; I know."

"All right," Kestrel gave the older woman an even sharper look. "I'm Kestrel; I'm something of the local information broker-"

"I'm Grant and this is Kara," Grant replied, doing his best to appear harmless; given the fact that it was him, he was doing this with mixed success. "We've recently moved here. Kara practices gynecology; me - homeopathy; we really want to fit in and start off things on the right foot here. Are zombies and not-zombies here are a regular part of things?"

"Honestly? No. And you're sure that it isn't a zombie?" Kestrel relaxed - marginally. She actually did look something like her namesake - a small, but still deadly, falcon. 

"Yes," Kara nodded. "It had been enveloped in some sort of ooze that had been jerking it along. Zombies...they don't work like that."

"You know this how?"

"My mother was a Philocatrix; I know such sort of thing, or rather - I can see them," Kara replied quietly.

"...I have no idea what this is, but lately things have gotten weird, even by our standards," Kestrel admitted. "There are some strange supernatural pills going around, both this Stone guy and Old Man Moses have figured out how to liquefy them or something - the result gives you a high...supposedly. Angel planned on dealing with them, but he got a family emergency overseas, so off he went. Now things are getting bad. There are crackheads in Fever Dream alley, for example - they have been hanging there was the last two weeks. Stone supplies them, I know."

"And this is bad besides the obvious?"

"One of them was the zombie - the not-zombie, as you called him," Kestrel nodded to Kara. "Others have died there already - supposedly from lice, but I'm friends with Pearlman too - those bites weren't from lice, but from spiders."

"I'm sorry, but did you say spiders? At this time of the year, in England? Even if they live in some building-"

"Nuh-uh, they've been living outside," Kestrel said firmly. "If they'd been frozen, it would be one thing, but they were definitely bitten to death."

"So, you think that it is Moses who got them eaten?" Grant pressed on - gently.

"I'm not sure, no one seen him for a while - just, you know, Joseph's old gang who are acting as his runners nowadays," Kestrel admitted. "Two of Stone's men already had been found with their throats cut. Joseph, when he was alive, he did condone this sort of thing - we thought that his heir would be smarter, especially after Angel and Faith had staked Joseph after he turned himself to fight 'em - apparently not. Cameron and her cops didn't do nothing - they're in the Old Man's pocket to be sure."

"And where was that?"

"At the Night Market - it's the place with the fountain," Kestrel admitted, somewhat ruefully. "It's a nice place - our town is growing, slowly but steadily-"

"Are you talking in a normal sense or a paranormal one?" Grant asked, quietly.

"Both," the reply was equally quiet. "Now, where were we?"

"The turf war? Tombstone and this man Moses?"

"Old Man Moses. He was involved with some creepy cult until he dropped out. You seen the gargoyles? Not the normal gargoyles - the ones without faces, the really gaunt ones?"

"Yes," Grant and Kara exchanged a look: Kestrel noticed it, but didn't comment on it: she was still somewhat intimidated by the older couple, even though they looked perfectly normal - no horns, no fangs, no tail, no nothing. "What about them?"

"They're new, as are some sort of shadow hounds," Kestrel confessed, as she looked around, warily, shivering, and not just from the cold. "Fred and Koh are busy dealing with them - we're not sure if they're working with the cult or what."

"What cult?" Grant couldn't help but ask. "Tombstone never cared much for religion and is fully agnostic; are you talking about the Old Moses?"

"Yeah, him," Kestrel nodded unhappily. "For a while, at first, he had been selling this shiver thing - it smells like fish, but it works - in bottles marked with a spider logo-"

"A spider? Not an octopus? They can be drawn similarly."

"True, but this was most certainly a spider. There's a cult somewhere out there, and they're worshiping a spider demon," Kestrel blinked and looked askance at Grant and Kara. "There are demons out there, you know?"

"True, but maybe it's just a spider?" Grant didn't argue.

"True," Kestrel reached into her pocket and pulled out a small bottle with a label that had a clear depiction of an eight-legged critter on it - and it wasn't Hydra's octopus. "It's an old bottle, I don't use it," she added hurriedly, "but, anyways, you know? This is Magic town, and there are spider demons, so - who knows? I want to err on the side of caution."

"Fair enough," Grant nodded gently. "Now, where are we?"

"Rook's Roost - Stone lives here," Kestrel said brightly. "I'll be going now - please, if you don't mind," she added, looking askance at Kara and Grant.

"Ok, good luck and have a good evening," Kara replied, after exchanging a look with her partner. "Want a flashlight? In case of gargoyles or shadow monsters?"

"I'll think about it," Kestrel admitted after some internal struggles. "Have a good evening yourselves!" She ran off.

For their part, Grant and Kara exchanged a thoughtful look at her retreating back and then faced - first each other, and then Rook's Roost. "You know, the birds on the door look more like blackbirds," Kara finally broke the silence.

"True, so let's go and knock," Grant replied.

And they went up the stairs.

_TBC_


	4. Chapter 1.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grant and Kara visit Tombstone - and they aren't very impressed. It's mutual, sadly.

_Disclaimer: see previous chapters._

The journey up the rickety external staircase (the door was actually located at the height of the second floor, rather than the first) took Grant and Kara somewhat longer to make than it would've been expected. The staircase was wooden and rickety (as it was said before - the Magic town had its own opinion on architecture, it looked like), the weather became cold and overcast, and honestly? The self-proclaimed information broker had really livened up the atmosphere of the two ex-agents before. Somehow, without her, the realization of what they had lost in S.H.I.E.L.D. (whether real or imaginary was another matter) had hit them twice as hard now.

With those heavy thoughts, Grant reached out and knocked on the door - harder than he had intended to. Then again, the hour was late, the weather was dark, cloudy and cold, there was no one else but the two of them on street - or so it seemed, and his inner voice was telling him that there was going to be some sort of a fight soon enough, and his inner voice was never wrong on this sort of thing, so Grant didn't really pull his punches any, either. Or rather knocks, if you wanted to get technical about it.

A man of Eurasian descent (half Hindu, and half European) opened the door, saw Grant first, blinked, and stiffened. 

"Hal Five-Coins. Of course," Grant spoke in a tone of voice that was anything but delighted.

"Five-Coins?" Kara blinked.

"Few years before the Hydra uprising S.H.I.E.L.D. was undergoing a joint effort with the WSC in Asia, India and beyond," Grant explained thoughtfully. "It was actually a part of an even bigger WSC plan. It was probably when Hydra began to infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D., if not WSC as well."

"Fascinating, so he is Hydra?" Kara pointed towards Hal.

"Nah, the man was involved in a silver smuggling scheme," Grant gave the other man a disdainful look. "There was a lot of silver involved. This was one of Fury's most embarrassing moments - at least until agent Horsemann was uncovered being a procurer. The man was discharged with dishonor - and now he's an oligarch in the Nautilus club, while Hal...well, he's here."  
Grant and Kara took another look at Tombstone's current digs. They were rather underwhelming, with a rather porcine smell floating from the behind. 

"Do I know you?" Hal said with evident hostility, but then again, he probably wasn't used to being ignored so blatantly, not even now. 

"No, but I used to work for John Garrett, and your boss knows John Garrett," Grant said evenly. "Also, the ragged handkerchief you've been using to wipe your hands dry? It got the Fen family crest, and since one of that family's members was found walking around the place as a zombie of some sort, you might want to get rid of it, fast."

The man looked at the red cloth as if it was his personal enemy and tried to hide it - sadly, it seemed that he lacked any appropriate pockets to do that, and the fact that he was growing increasingly flustered didn't help him any, either. 

"So, Horsemann became an oligarch instead?" Kara dryly asked, as she followed Grant into forcing their way inside. "I wonder why - whoa!"

The 'whoa' part was caused by the interior, which firmly matched the exterior of hide-out/drug den: it was clearly unimpressive, down on its luck, and the smell of swine was still going strong - maybe even stronger than it was outside. Still, the atmosphere on the inside was warmer than what it was outside, and that was good. Sort of.

"...He doesn't work well with women, does he?" Kara finally reached a conclusion as she and Grant finished surveying the scene. 

"A bachelor, confirmed and bred," Grant nodded in agreement before shifting his attention to the newcomer on the scene: "Hello, Tombstone."

"Grant Ward," the big man (from Harlem) grunted without any friendly vibes. "Are you from Hydra or otherwise? Does it matter?"

"No," Grant didn't appear to be intimidated by the fact that the man he was talking to had stone-hard skin and muscles to match - and was as big as he was. "Believe it or not, me and Kara had moved into the neighborhood - as private citizens - when the corpse that you failed to put to rest via your pigs shuffled by. The authorities are planning on using you as a scapegoat - you want this?"

"Out of goodness of your heart no doubt," Tombstone grunted, clearly unimpressed.

"Oh, we've learned the concept of goodness, have we?" Grant wasn't impressed himself. "What next? You're sending an application to Fury, Coulson and the others? Or did they send you your reject letter already, alongside Hal over there?"

Tombstone looked askance at Hal (who was still busy with the ragged handkerchief to the point of ignoring his surroundings), and suddenly sprung into action, doing his best to pummel Grant into a helpless mess. His fists were as hard as stone and the muscles driving them were just as hard, but Grant wasn't fighting him barehanded either - between the brass knuckles and a stiletto that he used (handle-first, not blade-first, because blades were largely useless against Tombstone, not unless you were Wolverine of the X-Men or someone like that with access to adamantium or something similar), so in the end it was mostly two men, one Hydra, the other...gifted, of some sort, blowing off steam. 

"Fine," Tombstone relented, when it became obvious that he wasn't going to win - not tonight. "So what about the stiff?"

"This is Magic town, remember? He got out of the sty and began to walk around. Since Hal over there actually got a souvenir from 'the stiff's' last visit, I'm guessing that you and your people have some idea how things here work?"

"Excuse me," Tombstone walked over to Hal, (whose danger sense was clearly absent tonight), and had a brief and brutal discussion with him, just what you would expect from a mob boss who has to deal with a truly incompetent minion. By the time he was finished, both Kara and Grant were thoroughly disgusted with him (their current moral stance irregardless).

"Yes, I can know now that things are working differently here, somewhat, than in NYC," Tombstone agreed, once he got back to the two of them. "Mostly in details, little, but imporant. The cops are still on the take, as are the local politicians, yeah. The problem is that nobody is sure to whom to give or from whom to take or who is going to give you a better deal - not yet, anyways. This Old Moses? He was involved with some creepy cult - not Hydra-"

"We know."

"Yeah, so now he is either on the outs with them or not, I don't know. Formerly, the drug trade was run by some wannabe named Joseph, who tried to become a vampire and got offed for his trouble. Now his son is working with them - Moses and his old gang, just Moses - I don't know who - and he is making trouble. The zombies or whatever? They're just the usual here, you need to swing it so that it looks like Old Moses and his gang, you follow? I'm sure that I can be properly grateful-"

"Of course you can - I saw you being grateful to John before S.H.I.E.L.D. had fallen," Grant said with a grimace. "What can you tell me about the stiff, first?"

"He was one of those hanging in the Fever Dream alley," Tombstone shrugged, "maybe they still do. There was some spider, or lice, infestation break out there, but you know potheads. They're hanging around there still."

"And this is where we will be going," Grant nodded sagely. "Thank you for your time, Tombstone. We'll see you around."

"'Thank you for your time' - God, you're doing at it all proper now, aren't you?"

"Tombstone, you're the man with the tie," Grant told curtly. "Kara?"

"I'm good," the former agent 33 appeared at Grant's side. "Saw the swine. You sure that you're in the right business? You would do marvelous as a hog farmer instead."

Tombstone glared, as he realized that he'd been had, at least on a certain level. While he'd been entertaining Grant (or perhaps it was the other way around, it was tricky with agents, even former agents), ex-agent 33 was snooping around - professionally, too. 

"So, Fever Dream alley, eh?" Kara gave Tombstone a very cold smile. "We'll be seeing it for ourselves, then."

And they left.

_TBC_


	5. Chapter 1.4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grant and Kara continue to look for answers. What they find is something very strange instead. (And also spiders).

_Disclaimer: none of the characters are mine. Except for Langston. And his people._

As the ex-agents left Tombstone's residency, they shivered slightly - and not from the cold wind. "So, those are the people that Hydra used to be associate with," Kara said quietly.

"Not Hydra - Garrett," Grant replied firmly. "Hydra's worse. Kara, you don't have to do this - I am honestly flying blind now, so to speak. I have no idea what we'll find in this Fever Dream alley, or where to go from there."

"So what, I should just abandon you, and go back crawling to S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Kara curled her lip, her scar especially vivid at the moment. "Perhaps I could, yes, but I do not want to. Unlike you, Bobbi was the parasite - my parasite, and now she has found someone better than me, apparently: Hunter. I feel sorry for him, really - Bobbi will take him onto a ride and then dump him in case someone better comes along, as she had with me. She buried me too, and so she will bury him, I bet. Some Valkyrie!" 

There was a pause as Grant silently beckoned at Kara to continue. Now that she had recovered some more from her Hydra abuse, she was becoming the more talkative one in the pair - usually. This time, though, Kara stopped her rant quickly enough and adopted a calmer, more professional approach. 

"Anyways, Grant," she continued, as the pair began to move once more, with a slower, more leisurely pace, "your idea of S.H.I.E.L.D. being initially, theoretically, this warm and fuzzy pace is a good dream, but is just a dream all the same."

"But a person has to have a dream to strive for," Grant shrugged, "otherwise...Back in Mexico, when Coulson came around, I already had a new dream - you and I, maybe some children, a small house, a handler from the agency, an occasional mission or two once in a while...it could've worked as well as T.A.H.I.T.I. did, I was sure. In fact, it probably would've worked, but-"

"But now you don't care if it would've, and neither do I, for that matter," Kara shook her head. "Bobbi and I, I thought that we still mattered to each other, and even if we didn't, if I mattered to her, why couldn't she lie? She is actually very skilled at this, you know? Lying."

Grant looked away. Kara was a very different woman from Skye, (she was actually more like the Cavalry, but Grant was keeping mum on that - he wanted to live and not have his throat crushed again, thank you very much), but right now she reminded him a lot of Skye, not unlike how she acted back on the Bus, before Coulson had saved her from Grant in Lola. 

Once, Grant could've had his dream, but he threw it away for the sake of Garrett, who had been a good man - once. But then he became someone else and took Grant with him...only Grant was intent on climbing out of this pit and becoming his own man, thank you very much. He may not be as formidable as he once assumed, but he'll be his own - not Garrett's, not Coulson's, not Skye's... Maybe Kara's? (Sort of).

"You had an epiphany, didn't you?" Kara said fondly as she rubbed Grant's arm in an affectionate way.

"Is that what it is? I thought that it was the same thing as closure."

"No, it isn't. We're going to get you a Thesaurus so that you got the concept of what various words mean," Kara shook her head. "And I thought that me being dominated by Bobbi was bad!.. Hey, why have we stopped?"

"We're here."

"Here's where?" Kara asked another question, as she looked around. "Hah." 

As a matter of fact, Kara had a good reason to be laconic, as she discovered that she and Grant were in a tangle of alley, with plank-and-rope bridges crisscrossing several stories above their heads. Down on the ground, there was a lot of trash, as well as addicts - the atmosphere was generally that of a flophouse. Several potbellied stoves, rusty, but still functional, completed the atmosphere. 

"This may not be Fever Dream, but it still works, yeah?" Grant rubbed his nose. "Any ideas where to go from here?"

"Well, what does your intuition tell you?" Kara shot back.

"Some of the people here aren't human - the three over there, for example, remind me of the lemurs from the Madagascar movie franchise."

"Really?" Kara took a good look at the trio in question. They were covered in short fur, complete with ring-like markings around their eyes, and their eyes were big, actually, but overall the depiction wasn't very lemur-like... Well, no, it sort of was, but not the Madagascar-movies-like lemurs. "I don't see it."

"Don't see what?" one of the trio got onto their feet, unsteadily, followed by the second. The third was still asleep, clearly uneasy and unhealthy, even by non-human standards. "You don't like us, human?"

There was a pause as Grant and Kara just stared down at their would-be opponents - frankly, after Tombstone, they weren't very impressed by the lemur/not lemur entities, whoever they were, even if they hadn't been so ill. Whatever this spider-labelled thing was, it wasn't doing them any favors, not in the long run. 

"Gah!" the last member of the trio shrieked suddenly, as he (or she? It was hard to tell with all the fur and ragged clothing) suddenly opened their mouth and began to vomit - badly...that is, in a bad way. And as s/he did so, the scene changed. The alley with its' plank-and-rope bridges was gone, leaving behind, instead, a tangle of webs or webbing, some strands sticky, the others - not so was left in its place. The addicted trio were hopelessly tangled in it, too.

"Kara," Grant said slowly, "are you steady - on your feet?"

"I don't know," Kara admitted. "What is this? Some sort of a strange dream thing?"

"Let me check," Grant grew thoughtful. He concentrated, and an Mk2 grenade appeared in his hands. "This is new. This is a dream. I wonder how the FitzSimmons would handle this."

"Grant, there's a giant spider," Kara pointed out, half-crossly but half-nervously. "You want to do something about it?"

"Hm." Grant looked at the spider, which emerged, flanked by a swarm of the smaller eight-legged vermin, out of the depths of the webbing, and then at his Mk2 grenade. "Ok. Hold onto this," he handed the grenade over to Kara. "Let me see how tough this sort of thing is."

"Excuse me?" Kara blinked at the grenade in her hands. "Grant, don't act macho-"

It was too late: Grant had walked over to the giant arachnid (well, not so much giant as man-sized, which means that Grant was slightly taller than his opponent), inhaled deeply and kicked the vermin right in the fangs - so hard that the giant spider was lifted off its 8 legs and flew backwards into the darkness of the webbing, taking it down with it into the distance...

The dream (or whatever else it was) faded now, leaving behind just the alley-turned-flophouse, Grant, Kara, and the assembled cast of crackheads, none of whom really seemed to be in it. "Whoa, dude! What did you do?" one of the original trio of not-lemurs exclaimed as he and his buddies clutched their heads. "We're sober man, that's not cool."

"He's an Aries," Kara said promptly, as she hid something into one of the pockets of her vest. "I'm a Taurus, BTW. Anything else?"

"Nah, we're just going to give those folks at the Night Market our piece of mind," the now sober not-lemur (man?) ground out. "We had Fen the Younger get a lot of things for the fix - some silverware, a gold brooch, a weird silvery key, a parakeet in a cage - I think that he had taken it from Nodira herself - and it didn't do us all that much. He still kept the book, however," he shrugged his head, looking thoughtful. "You don't know where it is, do you?"

"No. What sort of book?"

"The one that had a lock and clasps on its covers," the not-a-lemur shrugged. "The key was probably from it. Ah well. We're off to the Night Market to see if there's more available. The American - he isn't dealing good fixes, it seems. Maybe Old Man Moses will do one better. You coming, Langston?" 

The third not-lemur shook his head.

"Suit yourselves," the first entity spoke, and s/he left, alongside their last companion. The one that they left behind looked at Kara and Grant in a rather disturbing manner. "I'm going to Nodira," s/he told the ex-agents. "And thank you...for whatever you did to me...I needed this...but I need more help. Nodira can help me. Want to come?"

Kara and Grant exchanged looks, and Kara didn't like what she saw on Grant's face - the man was pale and sweaty and visibly nervous, in an unhappy sort of way. "Grant, you caught it?" she asked him gently.

"Not exactly," Grant admitted, "but we do need to talk to this Nodira woman. I think that we - or at least I - had caught something and got lucky in shaking it loose so quickly. Lead the way, Langston, sir," he told the not-lemur. "And Kara? I believe that you kept the Mk-2?"

"Yes," Kara nodded, "or rather - I've kept something." She blinked as a belated realization hit her. "Oh my. We really do need to talk to someone, don't we?"

"Yes we do," Grant nodded, visibly relieved that his partner was on board for real. "Shall we go?"

They went.

_TBC_


	6. Intermission 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, back at the agency... what's up with Jemma Simmons?

_Disclaimer: none of the characters are mine._

And so it came to pass that once Jemma Simons had fallen asleep, she found herself back in her nightmares on the alien planet in all of its forsaken, lonely horror. "No, no, no," she muttered to herself. "This is wrong, I cannot be here, Leo and the team have rescued me!"

Instead of a literal reply, something burst out of the sky and landed, like some meteorite, in smoke and bitter smell of burnt webbing - an event that most certainly hadn't occurred when Jemma was on the alien planet for real. 

"Hah!" Jemma said slowly, "this is new." 

Slowly, cautiously, she made her way across the cold wasteland and prodded the mess with the tip of her shoe - now that she was aware that it was just some generic dream and not her memories, her formerly repressed curiosity was beginning to resurface. "What have we here?"

Something stirred out of the messy knot, and then out of it, into the planet's perpetual gloom, emerged... well, a very large spider, maybe even man-sized, and considering just how small Jemma was - it was out of this world, metaphorically speaking.

Jemma wasn't the bravest agent in S.H.I.E.L.D., especially when it came to icky spiders, but, well, this was a dream, and Jemma had to admit that spider or not, this sort of thing was actually livening up her night quite a bit.

"Well hello there!" she said brightly to the oversized arachnid. "I'm Jemma Simmons! And you?"

The spider stood up, shakily, looked around with its 8 eyes, and froze - in an excited way that Jemma had known from personal experience.

"You're from here, are you?" she asked tentatively. "Care to show me around?"

The spider looked at Jemma, and grew noticeably thoughtful. It began to move forwards, tentatively, also kind of uncertain as to what to make of her. It wasn't unfriendly, but it wasn't friendly, either. 

"Um," Jemma grew thoughtful and wondered if she shouldn't wake up. Maybe once her subconsciosness reached a decision - whether to make the spider a friend or foe - she would go back to sleep and see where it would go from here? She had to admit - her dream version of the alien planet was becoming much more interesting than the reality was, or rather - had been. "Maybe I should give you some time alone? Wake up?"

There was a flapping of wings, and something, or someone, else, landed next to her - some sort of a gargoyle, almost diabolical in its appearance, but without any face or facial features whatsoever. The spider, for its' part, grew even more excited upon seeing this new arrival: it stiffened even more, began to vibrate its body hair and to gesticulate with its front legs and pedipalps. The faceless gargoyle looked at it, (in a matter of speaking), and then it made a rather polite bow towards Jemma.

"Oh my!" The dream has certainly taken an interesting turn of events - Jemma wasn't aware that her subconscious self was this sort of person. "What shall we do next? Where shall we go?"

Instead of replying, (and how could it? It had no mouth!) the gargoyle put Jemma on top of the giant spider - and they were off.

///

"Hey, Lance! What's up?"

Lance Hunter, a British mercenary turned S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, turned around and saw Jemma Simmons, his fellow countrywoman, (S.H.I.E.L.D. was supposed to be international, but still, such things mattered) and agent approach him with something that was rather like her old, pre-disappearance self. 

"You're in a good mood," he noticed neutrally. "Had a good night's sleep at last?"

"Oh yes, Lance Hunter, definetly!" Jemma nodded nonchalantly. "All I needed, it seems, was to get back to my home planet, to my team, and to have some good sleep - and now I am a brand-new me!"

"Good for you," Lance frowned. Something seemed to be different about Jemma Simmons this morning, but he wasn't sure what exactly. Plus, he had never known her as well as some of the others did, plus she had been through a lot, especially emotionally, so some OOC acting wasn't too unusual, perhaps. "So, what are you planning on doing now?"

"An experiment - a purely scientific experimentation," Jemma nodded sagely. "Discovery requires experimentation, you know?"

(If Bobbi Morse had been around at this moment, she would've immediately realized that something was wrong and Jemma Simmons couldn't be left alone at all, not until she and Fitz and the others did some more tests on her - but right now Bobbi was elsewhere, and Lance didn't know things that his partner did.)

"Ok," he nodded. "So, what does this have to do with me?"

"You want to help me?" Jemma fluttered her eyelashes at Lance with exagerrated innocence. "I don't want to ask May or Skye - Daisy, and Leo's Leo. I think that he and I must have a different talk first before we get into any mutual experiments together. You know?"

Lance nodded, thoughtfully. It was about time that the FitzSimmons got together at last, and if Jemma wanted to do some experiments of her own first, maybe to get her confidence back, he was actually happy to help. True, he would rather go after Grant Ward and his woman instead, but-

But Coulson was rather reluctant to send anyone after Grant Ward, especially with May taking a leave of absence and the man himself once more fading into woodwork. Considering that the last bout of nastiness had started when Coulson dragged Ward (and his wife?) back into S.H.I.E.L.D. over the man's objections in the first place, Hunter was beginning to feel the need to ask Coulson some questions of his own - but without Grant around this would be pointless: the man was keeping a low profile, so Lance had to give him that. So, he still continued to regularly ask Coulson to go after Ward, but didn't press it. If Grant resurfaced in the ranks of Hydra or similar organization once more, Lance would go after him, maybe even alone, after telling Coulson 'Told you so', but if he didn't, well, then Lance wouldn't go after him - no need to stir a hornets' nest - and if Coulson would be 'telling him so' in the process, Lance could live with it. Boredom, on the other hand? Something that he could live without, actually. Ergo-

"What sort of experiment are we talking about, here?" he asked Jemma, with only some reluctance. "It doesn't involve nuclear energy, does it?"

"No, but spiders may be involved," Jemma shrugged. "That's not a problem, is it?"

"No, I've been a mercenary before I became one of you. I've been to the tropics, I've seen some big spiders, I can handle it," Lance shrugged. "I don't like them, but I can handle them."

"Great!" Jemma chirped, and taking Lance firmly by the arm, she led him towards her part of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s labs...

_TBC_


	7. Chapter 1.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grant and Kara meet Nodira at last. But this doesn't mean that things are going to get easy, oh no.

_Disclaimer: none of the characters are mine, save for Langston._

And so it came to pass that Langston had brought Grant and Kara Palamas to Nodira. "So, Nodira is the glowing lady, correct?" Kara asked the lemur-like entity...or perhaps - individual, as they stood at her doorway. 

"Yes, but just Nodira is fine," Langston shivered, nervously. "She is, uh, a very charming and understanding woman, kind too-"

"Let me guess," Grant said wryly, "the parakeet was hers?"

"Mm," Langston nodded, looking very upset. "We didn't even like Fen the Younger - he was human and we're not, but he was good at fencing things - at the American's, at Old Moses', at the Library of Knowledge, and beyond."

"What's the last one?"

"It's a fencing thing," Langston said miserably. "You know?"

"You didn't even want to be a part of it, but there was the need, right?" Grant spoke as gently as he could (which, admittedly, wasn't very good). "How did you get involved in it, or with it, or whatever?"

"Eh, you know. One day there's this cult springing out and about, and they're selling fixes with spiders on the labels, the next Old Man Moses had a falling out with them and is doing his own thing, and then there are the Americans coming over to live here, and one of them is going against Old Moses - you know?"

"Americans? More than just Tombstone?" Kara looked at Grant.

"There's one leaving Nodira's right now," Langston nodded, miserably, as Nodira (who was indeed the glowing woman) began to approach them. "Some of you people are ok; you two are ok - hello, Nodira. I, uh, um?"

"Need help?" Nodira spoke, in a voice that wasn't too unkind, actually. 

"Yeah. My craving is gone now. I don't want it to come back. Can I hang around and do things while, um-"

"Koh and Fred had recovered my parakeet," Nodira said brightly. 

"At the Night Market fountain?" Kara couldn't help but to ask. 

"Yes, how did you guess?"

The two ex-agents just shrugged.

"It's not even a market - or a fountain, it's just a well from which we get our water - well, some of our water, there are several wells," Langston began to babble, "and-"

"Langston, stop," Nodira said firmly. "I'm half-angry and half-dissappointed with you. I thought that you were better than this!" She exhaled. "How did you get out of this - morass?"

"Er," Langston weakly pointed towards Grant and Kara. "I think that they know more about it."

Nodira shifted her gaze towards the two ex-agents. "We should get inside," Grant replied, after some discussion with Kara (in Spanish). "It's a longish story and Kara and I are rather tired."

"You're not afraid-"

"You had just been talking to Dr. Connors of all people, and he is the Lizard," Grant shrugged. "Guess that Tombstone isn't the only one who moved here from the US. But, the point is, if you can handle the Lizard, you can handle Kara and me just as easily."

"True, but Curt Connors isn't a bad man, but you, both of you," Nodira gave both Grant and Kara a sharp look. "Interesting."  
There was a pause.

"Yes?" Kara politely inquired from the other woman. "What is so interesting?"

Nodira paused, clearly thinking over her reply. "You two are like Dr. Connors," she finally admitted. "There's darkness, there're monsters inside of you, and it would be so easy to give in. But you don't, do you? Either of you?"

"Yes," Grant replied flatly. "It was touch and go for a moment. If the magic hadn't come back things would've been much wose for both of us." He paused. "Not that you would enjoy it much either, would you? The world without magic at all?"

"No," Nodira admitted, not happily. "But let's not talk about that time, let's talk about the modern events instead."

"Yes, let's," Kara nodded. "Since we're going to be talking about not-zombies and imaginary grenades turned real, can we please come inside and sit? Grant and I were up all night trying to make sense of it all, and it culminated in us being a part of a drug dream made real, yes?"

Nodira opened her mouth and blinked. "A drug dream made real?" she repeated the last part of Kara's statement, but more as a question. "Interesting. And yes, we should go inside. Langston, you too."

"Really?" the not-lemur being perked up and followed the rest of them in.

///

...When Grant and Kara finished their tale, Nodira was very thoughtful - very thoughtful indeed.

"I did hear - mostly from Faith and Fred - about the outbreak of people with powers, but I assumed that they were more like me, with their powers based in the occult, rather than the scientific," she told the two agents.

"Look," Grant shrugged. "Judging from the smell, the cult - or maybe Old Man Moses - have figured out how to take the bastardized alien crystals turned fish flesh and bastardize them even further into some sort of a drug-like potion or whatever. I knew a woman once, her name was Raina, she specialized on this sort of thing. I haven't seen her in a while, maybe she's dead, in fact she is probably dead, but she wasn't exactly unique, someone else could've figured out how to do it, in fact someone had, obviously."

"But not your friend?"

"Tombstone was never my friend," Grant shrugged. "The only reason we want to clear him up is because he hadn't done this. He is cunning and greedy and clever, but he isn't inventive enough to create this, and neither would be anyone working with him. If it was someone like Silvermane, let alone Fisk, it would be another story, but I know that getting rid of him will not get rid of the not-zombies and whatever else the drug-potion is bringing forth."

"I agree, for I know," Nodira nodded calmly. "Tombstone is like his namesake - deadly but not very dangerous. But he is part of the problem, rather than of the solution - unlike you. The 'drug-potion' as you call it, is disturbing Magic - and the very fabric of the reality. There is something else, something that neither I nor my friends have encountered before. Something very powerful."

"And Night Market is involved?"

"Fred and Koh are keeping an eye on the Night Market already," Nodira said with a thin, humorless smile. "There is nothing wrong with that well - it is just a drop-off, a middle point between Old Moses and Joseph's former gang. We should be able to deal with them well enough - we actually know where Old Man's hide-out is...really."

"Glad to hear this - maybe we can help? I am a field medic - I was a field medic, rather," Kara suggested mildly. "Grant can help too-"

"No need," Nodira said calmly, but in a manner that was rather reminiscent of Coulson - and in a bad way. "I will need to think on this, but we can handle Old Moses and his gang. Still, thank you for your offer - I will not forget it."

"Thank you too," Grant replied on the behalf of Kara - save for the flaring nostrils, he was the very picture of calmness. "We'll see you around, ma'am."

With these words, he and Kara left.

_TBC_


End file.
